


Break the Quaking Heart

by heartofstanding



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they agreed to follow Thorin, Fili and Kili each took an oath, swearing to never let anything prevent the quest from being completed. When both Thorin and Kili are injured, Fili is forced to face the oath he swore means he cannot choose his brother over the quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break the Quaking Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=13435325) over on the kink meme.

_"Faithless is he who says farewell when the road darkens," said Gimli._

_"Maybe," said Elrond, "but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not yet seen the nightfall."_

_"Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart," said Gimli._

_"Or break it," said Elrond._

**J. R. R. Tolkien, _The Fellowship of the Ring_**

* * *

The contracts are Gloin's idea and Balin's creation. The contracts are lengthy, with each eventuality detailed, and Fili watches the pile grow on his uncle's desk. But for Thorin's closest kin, there are no contracts.

'I know them. I know the depth of their honour and loyalty,' Thorin says, when Gloin hesitates, 'The word of my kin is enough for me.'

Instead, Thorin asks for oaths. Oaths that name Mahal as witness, that promise complete devotion to the quest and their king, even to the point of surrendering their lives to see the quest done and their king live. Oaths that swear that nothing _(nothing)_ will stand in the way of taking back Erebor from the dragon.

Fili and Kili are the first to swear. They kneel before Thorin for the first time in their lives and say the words. If Kili mumbles or stumbles over the word, Fili's strong voice covers it. They will see it done. Thorin reaches down and clasps their hands, drawing them to their feet and smiles at them as though they have already slain the dragon single-handedly.

The oath now stands until the quest is completed and Erebor is theirs once more or their lives are spent - or until Thorin releases them, unlikely though that is.

It does not occur to Fili to think on what would cause him to endanger or abandon Thorin's mission. It does not even occur to him to think of the oath as unnecessary, though. If Thorin willed it, they would go to Mordor for him, with only his will to hold them to that dark path. Fili would do anything for his uncle and king, without question, if only Kili was at his side.

+

It happens so quickly.

Too quickly. Gandalf is gone - no one is sure where, he's a wizard, he comes and goes as is his wont and Fili doesn't blame him, though he wishes Gandalf hadn't, not so soon after the trolls - and there are suddenly orcs everywhere, and the company is fighting to hold their ground. For what feels like hours, all Fili can hear is the screech of blades and orc voices. He cannot see much beyond the orcs around him, only the blurred green of the woods around them. Then he beheads an orc in time to see Thorin go down.

He goes down quietly, or quietly enough in the noise of battle, and no one but Fili seems to notice. He does not have the breath for battle cries, or even wordless screams, and instead launches forward to stand guard over his uncle. It is likely they are all going to die, but he will defend his kin and king for as long as there is life left in him.

Then Kili screams, and it's high-pitched and terrified and full of pain, and Fili's world ends.

+

It is over. The orcs have been forced back, their numbers decimated, and Oin kneels beside Thorin, his bag of herbs and bandages next to him. Fili looks for Kili, cannot distinguish the trail of dwarf blood from the orc blood that soaks the ground. Balin trots at his side, with a look as though there are words (of wisdom, of duty) that he wishes to impart. Fili will not hear them. He keeps his pace quick, quick enough that Balin cannot find the breath to speak.

He needs to find Kili.

That is all he needs, all he wants, at this point. He heard his brother _scream_ , and now he must find him, must look after him. He saw the vile hands of the orcs upon his brother and the blood, and that was the last of it, and—

Balin stops and barks, 'Fili!'

Fili is too used to obeying - a childhood of Balin teaching him the histories, the laws, of their people - and he stumbles to a stop. He looks over his shoulder at Balin, body tense, ready to snap out a curse and continue on.

Balin's face stops him. Never has he seen Balin look so grieved, the lines etched on his face deeper and darker before, his eyes reluctant and cold. He looks like Thorin had done before he told Fili that his father was dead. He thinks, _NO_ , with all his might and turns back. Kili is not dead, he cannot be, Balin saw _nothing_.

'Fili. If you do not find him soon, we will have to leave him.'

Sickened relief sweeps through him. Balin did not see Kili fall, did not see him die - Kili must still be alive. There is no other possibility Fili can accept - but Fili will not leave without him, not even if it takes years to find him again. Then he realises exactly what Balin has said.

'What?'

Balin sighs, slowly, and tries again. 'The orcs will come back, Fili. To stay would leave ourselves open to another attack.'

'He is my brother.' Each word feels like a knife in his throat. _Kili_ , he thinks, and barely avoids keening.

'I know,' Balin says, but there's more, more he wants to say, and Fili knows he cannot bear to hear it. He begins to turn away, but Balin grabs his shoulder in a grip as strong as iron. 'Your oath, Fili, remember it.'

Fili can - the words, the memory of how Kili had knelt beside him and uttered the same words and how Fili had covered for him when he stumbled, and how afterward Thorin would not stop smiling at them and how utterly ridiculous Kili had looked, overwhelmed with joy at Thorin's attention and approval.

'Nothing will delay the quest,' Balin says, his voice quiet, like he's pronouncing both judgement and punishment in one voice, 'And that you would give anything to see Erebor reclaimed. Even your life.' He hesitates again. 'Even your brother's life.'

' _No_ ,' Fili's voice is all but a snarl, 'I said no such thing!'

'Kili swore he'd give his life, though,' Balin says, again, his voice still quiet, like they're in the tombs, and Fili wants to throw up.

'Then go! Leave me to find him, to bring him to safety,' Fili can feel his control slipping, though he knows the oath has him in a vice grip. He would have given anything to see Erebor restored to them, but he had never imagined the price he was to pay. _Kili._ He clutches at the trunk of a tree, shreds the bark with his fingernails.

'Lad,' Balin sounds sympathetic, as though he has yet more ill news to deliver, 'You are Thorin's heir. He would not thank me for losing both his sister-sons in one day. And with his injuries being so severe, you are, naturally, the leader of this company in his stead.'

'Then someone else—'

'You cannot ask them - no, you cannot _allow_ them - to stay. You would be asking them to violate the terms of their contracts or break their oaths.'

Fili knows that. He knows, too, that for someone to stay behind would mean they would endanger their lives, for Balin is right: the orcs will return, and they will not be merciful. The bark beneath his fingers breaks and shatters and falls to the ground. Despair sets in, a great wave of it that buries him completely.

'Look for him a little while longer.' Balin hesitates, again, and then says, 'If you find him, and he cannot walk, we must leave him. Fili.' Balin's worn, steady hand rests upon his shoulder. 'I'm sorry.'

Fili laughs. He laughs because otherwise he will cry, but Balin flinches all the same. His laugh is bitter and agonised and he feels like he is falling apart and forming into something that has no brother, that does not feel.

 _Sorry_ , Balin says, and Fili wonders if he could face leaving Dwalin to die.

+

Fili must go back soon. He pushes against the invisible barrier of time, thinking, _I must go back, but a little longer_ _will not hurt_ , and knows that it will soon cut him off. If the orcs do not come, if Balin does not set out after him again, then his own mind, recalling the words of the oath, will send him back to the company. He cannot endure this.

 _Please_ , he thinks, _please let me find him_ , and then he thinks, _please don't let him be dead_.

And, _I love him_ and _he's my brother, my little brother_ , echo in his head and he bites his lip until it bleeds and forces his way through the undergrowth.

There is an orc lying dead before him, Kili's knife in his chest, and when Fili raises his eyes, he sees Kili face-down on the ground, limbs askew, and blood staining the ground around him.

'Kili!'

He doesn't remember moving, but suddenly he is at his brother's side, rolling him over, and Kili's eyes look at him, glazed with pain but when they see Fili, they brighten with hope.

'Fili,' Kili's voice is a whisper, dragged out, and Fili nods frantically, fingers flying over his brother's body, and it's bad, it's bad, just one wound in the belly (not counting the scratches the orc's claws have made), but deep, and oozing blood still.

'I killed it,' Kili says, and in spite of how pained and quiet his voice is, Fili can hear the pride running through Kili's voice, 'Took my knife and stabbed it in its filthy, black heart.'

'I know,' Fili says, and he knows that there is no way Kili can walk, he knows they will have to leave him.

'Fili? Aren't you going to help me?' And there's a pleading note in Kili's voice, soft and begging and full of expectation because it must hurt and it is Fili's job to make things better.

He doesn't know what to say. Even now, Kili looks at him with hope and expectation in his eyes. Fili has always looked after him, always saved him - Kili believes Fili will do so again, but Fili can't.  Not this time.

Fili presses his hand against Kili's face, tries to memorise the feel of it against his palm, the stubble that will never grow into a beard. He feels a sudden burst of anger, how, _how_ , can he just leave Kili? How does he go on, after? How can he ever tell someone (anyone) that he found his little brother and left him to die?

'Fili?'

And Kili has realised, now. The hope in his eyes dims and is replaced by cold fear, and Fili scrambles for something (anything) to take that fear away. There is nothing he can do, or say, and his hands are shaking.

'It's all right,' Kili says, his voice even more quiet and afraid, 'I understand.'

Kili avoids his eyes, and Fili knows if their eyes meet, he will see the shine of betrayal in Kili's eyes _(true friends stab you in the front)_ , and he cannot bear it.

'The oath,' he says, and doesn't know what else to say.

Kili spits out a laugh that's hard and bitter and utterly unlike him. Fili can feel his heart turn into shattered glass, the jagged edges shredding him into pieces. The oath. The oath is what breaks them. What consumes Kili's life and destroys Fili's heart.

'Kili.'

He does his best to prepare Kili, to give him the best chance at surviving. He pulls Kili over to the base of the tree, wraps his cloak around him. He takes his own cloak, bundles it into a wall and presses it against the wound. He takes Kili's bloodied hand and makes him hold it there.

'Hold that against it,' Fili says, 'Tight as you can.'

'Bit pointless, isn't it?' But Kili doesn't let his hand fall away.

He leaves two of his throwing knives, and retrieves Kili's knife. If the orcs find him (and they will, they will sniff out the blood and the weakness), Kili will have a better chance at survival (not a great one, though, he will be killed regardless). He kneels by Kili's eyes, and the fear is not vanquished, the hope has not returned, and all Fili can think is how very cold and cruel the world is.

'If I can—'

'I know.'

Kili's trying to be brave and selfless, but he can't hide his fear, can't hide the betrayal that leaves him pale and desolate because Fili _(his brother)_ is leaving him to die. Alone. Fili cannot fathom how it came to this. His hands fly over Kili's face, his body, trying to find one last moment, one last thought, and praying it will be enough to save Kili.

'Mother's going to kill me.'

'Only after she kills Thorin,' Kili gives him a weak smile, but it's bitter, bitter, and Kili has _never_ spoken a bitter word in his life, never had bitterness dull his eyes or twist his lips, but it's there now. Fili cannot endure this, cannot go through with this.

'I don't—'

Kili gives Fili a little push, all he can manage, and he sets his jaw in a harsh line, 'Get out of here.'

'I can't—'

'Go,' Kili hisses, and Fili stumbles up and walks (runs) away. He does not (cannot) look back.

+

Fili doesn't cry, though his feet pound through the woods and he feels the painful, hollow thumping in his chest. He doesn't cry. He's cut his heart out and left it with Kili, another useless token of his love. What good is his heart, is his love, if he cannot save his brother for the sake of an oath?

He stops, bending over to clutch at his knees and try to breathe again. There is none worse than an oathbreaker, no greater sin than the breaking of an oath. He has sacrificed Kili for Erebor, for Thorin, and for his own honour. It is the last of it that he hates, that he loathes himself for, and he would dearly like to turn back, to lie down beside Kili until they are both dead and Fili damned.

But the oath means he cannot. The circumstances means he cannot. He slams his fist into a tree trunk and it does _nothing_ , nothing, to ease the turmoil of emotion in his heart. His hand is sore, the knuckles cracked and bleeding. It is done. The oath will hold. He will go back to the Company, he will lead them until Thorin recovers, and if the price of it is too high, it will be paid, regardless.

He thinks of the price they are paying

_(his baby brother lying in a puddle of his own blood)_

_(his baby brother left alone and wounded to die)_

and hopes it is worth it - for Thorin, and the rest of the company, at least. It is already too high a price for Fili.

+

When he comes into the clearing, he feels the weight of eyes upon him. He is suddenly aware of the blood on his hands, Kili's blood and his own. He looks away from Dwalin's dark eyes, avoids Bilbo's, and finds Balin's knowing, but pitying gaze. How can he face them, he wonders, let alone lead them.

'Did you find him, lad?' Bofur asks, and his voice is so kind, so hesistant, that Fili wants to weep and confess all. Very slowly, Fili nods.

'And? Is he all right?' It's Ori that speaks now, hopeful and optimistic, even though Dori next to him clearly knows that Kili is not coming back.

'He couldn't walk,' is all Fili can say, 'We can't carry them both.'

He doesn't mean to say it so bluntly. He had thought to say something like _he fell_ , because he doesn't want them to see him as someone who left his brother to die. But his mind can barely focus on anything besides Kili. Kili's voice rings in Fili's head, the last moments they had together replaying themselves over and over and _over_ again.

Fili stares down at the ground beneath his feet, take notes at the crushed stems of grass, the black blood of orcs upon them. It is quiet all around him, and he cannot raise his head, cannot face them.

'What if I stay with him? Until you can come back and fetch us both?' Ori asks, and his voice is eager and hopeful, and Fili jerks his head up because he cannot order, cannot ask, but Ori is _volunteering_ , and even as Dori whips his head around to scold Ori, to order him into silence, Fili feels a hot bead of hope settling in his chest.

'You cannot,' Balin says, quietly, and the hope vanishes, 'None of us can.'

'What, no—' Bilbo is getting to his feet, eyes wide and utterly bewildered.

'Now wait just a moment,' Dwalin drops one of his axes, his voice a low growl, 'If you think we can just leave Kili—'

'The contracts,' Gloin says, quietly, raising a hand to his mouth. He looks sick.

'The oaths, too,' Balin says, and his voice is still soft, still _pitying_ , and Fili hates it. He goes over to his pack, next to Kili's, and begins to sort it. He hears Balin explaining it, all over again, and when Fili looks up, Nori is standing over him.

'You're his brother and you're going to leave him?'

 _Brother_ , Fili thinks with a sudden fury - can he still call himself that now? What will he be when Kili is dead and gone? What is he now?

He doesn't say anything, doesn't let himself voice the thought that suddenly sinks into him: Nori would not think twice about breaking his contract if it was _his_ brother. Nori would place his kin far above his own honour - and his loyalty to the king. And Fili feels it, deep within him, the shame that Nori, a petty criminal, would do what Fili, bound by honour, cannot.

'Thorin won't be happy,' Dwalin says, louder, and Fili looks over at him, and he's getting to his feet, like he's about to go tearing off to find Kili himself, and Balin shakes his head.

'Be that as it may, brother,' Balin says, 'It was Thorin who received their oaths. He cannot blame them for holding true to them.'

Dwalin curses and Fili looks away. His hands reach for Kili's bags, and, after a moment, he adds them to his own. He cannot leave what little he has left of his brother (he should turn back, return to Kili, make him safe, but he cannot).

Before he gives the order to head out (before he even thinks of it, he has not yet realised the full extent of what it means to be the company's leader now), Fili goes and kneels beside Thorin. Oin hovers at his shoulder, one hand out as if he would like to clasp Fili's shoulder, but unable to follow through. Fili stares at his uncle's still face, at the bandages, and wishes Thorin was awake, was well enough to order him to retrieve Kili. Yet Thorin slumbers on.

Fili swallows, hard, and clears his throat. 'How is he? Will he recover?'

'Providing infection and fever doesn't set in, yes,' Oin's voice is slow and cautious, and Fili nods, closing his eyes tight. 'He should wake soon enough - but,' Oin does clasp Fili's shoulder, squeezes it, and Fili feels the sharp bones pressing into his skin. 'he should not be upset until his health is more stable.'

Which, when it comes down to it, means _do not tell him about Kili_ , and the last of Fili's hope vanishes.

+

Thorin stirs halfway through their march, groggy and disoriented. Dori calls for Fili the moment it happens, and Fili hopes beyond hope that Thorin will have his wits about him. He doesn't. He looks at Fili with dazed eyes and shrugs when he's asked how he feels.

'Where's Kili?' he grunts, trying to peer over Fili's shoulder, and Oin's there, trying to get to him to lie back down on the stretcher. Fili wonders if Thorin had heard Kili's scream, but with Oin's watchful eyes on him, Fili doesn't dare ask.

'He's scouting ahead,' Fili says, quietly, staring down at the bark and dirt at his feet, scuffs his boots through them, and Thorin nods and shuts his eyes, trying to fight back a grimace of pain.

'Don't,' his voice is faint and slow, slurred, 'Don't let him get too far ahead.'

Fili nods dumbly. He cannot fathom the strength to reply. He wishes Thorin would see through him, see through his lie, and demand the truth and then fix things. But he doesn't. It must hurt too much, and whatever herbal remedy Oin's forcing on him must dull his senses and force his thoughts to wander and Fili cannot find it in himself to distress Thorin further.

+

They stop and begin setting up camp when the sun begins to fade from the sky. Fili tries to order the camp the way Thorin would, telling Bombur to prepare food, Oin to see the wounded and Bifur and Ori to tend to the ponies. He ignores the eyes staring at him, trying to decipher his state, and withdraws to crouch down low at the base of a tree.

Later, he goes over to Thorin and Thorin asks after Kili again. Thorin's voice is a little stronger, but he does nothing but nod when Fili tells him Kili is hunting.

Though Fili has said nothing but what is necessary, done nothing but what is necessary, the rest of the company treat him as though he is deeply unstable. Bilbo brings him over dinner and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder. Bofur looks at him with dark, sad eyes and tells him to rest, not to bother about the watches - and Bofur hates taking any kind of watch that's not the inside of his eyelids, so it's a kind gesture, but one Fili does not deserve.

He cannot sleep, anyway. His bedroll is laid over a great rock that digs into his lower back and every time he closes his eyes he sees Kili's pale face, feels the slight tremble running through his little brother's body and hears his pleading voice. Fili stares up at the stars, dim, distant and half veiled by cloud and fog. He tries to remember the stories his mother told about them, about the seven stars set in the sky to challenge the Dark Lord. He looks for it, almost unconsciously, but it's lost beneath the clouds.

In the dark of night, Ori and Bilbo cry, little snuffling noises as though they're trying to hide it, but it's still obvious. Maybe some of the others cry as well. Fili doesn't know. He lies there and tries to pretend that he can't hear them, that he's asleep and that he doesn't feel cold and dead.

+

Dwalin brings him breakfast when he gives up the pretence of sleep. The sky is still pale and new, and the morning a chill one. Breakfast is not much - cram and dried fruit and icy creek water. He can barely stomach it. The cram sticks in his throat and the fruit is not much better, but Dwalin fixes him with a steely glare and tells him he will need his strength.

'No one will think any less of you,' Dwalin says, awkwardly, as though this is the last thing he wants to be doing, and Fili remembers with harsh clarity Kili's voice at Bag End, when Dwalin had flung an arm over his shoulders. 'If you were to, well, _mourn_.'

And Fili looks at him, and he sees that Dwalin's eyes are reddened, maybe from his pipe, maybe from tears. Fili considers telling him the truth, confessing that he doesn't have the right to mourn Kili when it was he who left him to die. He nods, and says nothing and reaches for his own pipe to avoid answering.

'Or,' Dwalin says, his voice very quiet, and he shoots a look over at Balin as if to check they are not overheard, 'If you go back for him.'

Fili shakes his head. 'I gave my word. Only death can break it.'

Dwalin nods, and Fili wonders if he's disappointed Dwalin by not breaking his oath and abandoning them for Kili. He wonders if he himself is disappointed that Dwalin isn't forcing him to go back for Kili. He doesn't know. Dwalin clasps his shoulder and leaves Fili to rouse the rest of the company.

+

When Gandalf finds them again, he immediately steps to Thorin's stretcher. He listens to Oin's report for a moment and then turns back to examine the rest of the company. Fili can see Gandalf counting under his breath, mumbling names as he ticks them off on his fingers and Fili turns, sickened, as a thought occurs - all Kili is to Gandalf is another name on his list and now he's been left behind, he's a name that's been crossed out. It's a thought that Fili feels like an injury, that spreads through him as blood blooms from a wound.

He glances behind him, and Gandalf is looking straight at Fili, eyes bright under his bushy grey eyebrows. It's like he's turned Fili into glass so the wizard can see the gap where his heart (his brother) was, and discover exactly what Fili's done.

But Gandalf comes to him, puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, and asks, 'What happened to your brother?'

'He fell,' Fili says, the words thick and bitter. He feels some kind of sick pride that he managed the lie, and that Gandalf accepts it, shutting his eyes tight in grief. Then Fili whispers, 'We haven't told Thorin,' and Gandalf frowns with such severity that Fili fears him.

+

It is easy to let Gandalf talk him into going to Rivendell. Lord Elrond is their best chance at discovering the secret the map of Thrain possesses, and it is the safest place Thorin can recover from his injuries. Rivendell, again, is another bounty there, or so Gandalf says - meaning no insult to Oin, of course, but Lord Elrond is a healer of great renown, if not the greatest - and Fili will do anything if it means that Thorin is up on his feet sooner and Fili can face the brunt of Thorin's fury for leaving Kili behind.

(He still asks after Kili and Fili still lies)

Lord Elrond's face carries the weight of memories both joyful and sorrowful. Fili wonders what terrible and beautiful things he has seen, whether he too has given up a brother, or one who would be a brother. He does not dare ask it of Elrond, though, for though he is kind, he is venerable and untouchable, hair as dark as pitch and eyes like a grey twilight.

Fili lets Gandalf talk, for he cannot find the strength to speak, and when Elrond turns away from Gandalf, his eyes travel over the company and land on Fili for a moment that goes on for too long. Then he turns and catches sight of Thorin upon his stretcher, who is sleeping still, and goes to the stretcher, shucking off the mantle of Elven-lord to become a healer.

+

When Thorin wakes for the first time in Rivendell, he's more like himself. He complains about Elves and berates Fili for bringing him here, then warns him never to trust an Elf. Then he drops back onto the bed and asks about Kili.

'He's,' Fili says, and stares out one of the high windows, staring at the waterfalls and thinks he cannot bring himself to say it, 'He's in the archery yards.'

For the first time, Thorin looks dubious. Then he puts a heavy, warm on Fili's wrist. 'Tell me he's not blaming himself for what happened.'

Fili nearly chokes. He pulls back, shaking his head, and Thorin lets him go. Thorin looks at him with desolate eyes and Fili shakes his head again, unable to speak, and he just hopes that Thorin believes the denial, that he does not believe that Kili blames himself for Thorin's injury.

'Fili.'

'I need to go,' Fili mumbles and flees.

+

Fili spends his days in the library, knowing that few of his kind will think to look for him there. Ori, he suspects, might venture there - but he also suspects that both Dori and Nori will keep Ori close in a city of Elves. Fili does not read. Every book he picks up is filled in beautiful, flowing writing in a language he doesn't understand. He often retreats to one of the padded benches to pretend to read. Sometimes, he catches an Elf staring at him with rude curiosity, but the few that speak to him are exceedingly polite and distant.

Bilbo stumbles in, once or twice, and splutters some nonsense at Fili before disappearing again. Fili doesn't even begin to muster the strength to reply. He wonders how much longer he can go on like this.

He places the book back on the shelf and goes down the stairs into the round courtyard. He circles it slowly, touching the stone plinth at the centre, runs his fingers across the smooth, graceful lines carved upon it. He hears Gandalf's voice first,

'And where is Lord Glorfindel? His voice is one I would like to hear before we take our leave.'

Fili turns, then, and sees Gandalf walking beside Lord Elrond, their heads bowed towards each other. Elrond laughs, the sound strange but merry, 'I suspect only Glorfindel and his escort know that. I sent him to Círdan, he should return soon. I half-expected him to ride in with you.'

Elrond raises his head, then, and his eyes find Fili, standing in his courtyard. Gandalf follows his gaze, and looks as if to hail Fili. Horror fills him: Gandalf never leaves well enough alone (or so Thorin says when he's being less charitable) and Fili wants desperately to be left alone. Elrond places his hand on Gandalf's arm and though he says nothing, though they don't even look at each other, Gandalf merely nods and turns back to Elrond, talking in a voice too quiet for Fili to hear.

+

Gandalf manages to wrestle the map off Thorin and Elrond finds the secret for them, and now they're leaving as soon as Thorin is strong enough. Fili forces himself to return to the company and begins to organise their departure. He looks at Kili's bags, knows that he will have to go through them and leave what it is not necessary. It makes no sense to carry more than what is necessary.

The company leaves him be, though he catches the pitying glances they send his way. His hands shake despite himself as he sorts through the spare clothes, the familiar shades of teal and brown swimming before his eyes. He rubs his fingers over the embroidery, remembers the last time he'd seen Kili in this tunic. He forces himself to put it aside. It won't fit anyone but Kili, it's useless for everything except to serve as rags and Fili cannot allow that.

Some personal effects - like Kili's pipe or his bowl - can to be left, but Fili dumps the pack of tools and the supplies out onto the floor to be divvied up. The bedroll and blankets might be of use to the others - Fili has heard Balin and Oin complain about the cold often enough - so he heaves them out onto the floor as well. The coil of rope and whetstone Fili takes for his own pack. It feels odd, odd and cold, to be going through Kili's belongings, dividing up what should be kept, what could be useful, but it's something to do, something necessary, something that stops him from going mad.

He tosses the rags out onto the floor to be thrown away, as well as the sliver of soap, and then puts his hand back in the bag, because there's still something knocking around in there. His fingers seize on cold wood and draw back, unfurling once they're free of the bag so he can see what he's got.

He recognises it instantly. The small, wooden raven Kili had dragged everywhere with him as a child. The flaking paint on the wings, the scratched eye and chipped tail. It brings everything back to Fili in a sudden rush. Kili was only a baby, so young, young enough to be still dragging his toys around, and Fili _left him_ , he's dead, he was Fili's little brother and Fili left him to _die_.

It's like a great deluge has been released, and at first, all he does is gasp, ears ringing, unable to see anything but memories of Kili as a child, and this awful pounding starts in his head, in his heart. How can he go on? His heart, Mahal, his heart is split and split and split and split.

Someone is holding him tight, rough, strong hands around his shoulders, but they're not Kili, they're not even Thorin, and it's wrong, so wrong. He gasps for breath, but there are no words. There is no sight left, no sounds left, no words. There is nothing left but this guilt and grief and agony. He cannot endure. There is nothing left but this deluge.

And then it breaks. He is numb and cold and Dwalin is holding onto him like he's frightened. Most of the company is missing now, something which Fili can only be grateful for. Dwalin slowly releases him, and that's all right. Bofur comes over with hot tea in a tin mug that burns his hands and tastes far too sweet, but Fili drinks it anyway.

A soft Elven voice intrudes on the silence. Fili turns, rubbing his eyes frantically. Lindir stands there, face impassive, and he looks directly at Fili.

'Master Fili, Lord Glorfindel has requested your presence. There is something he would like to discuss with you.'

Fili climbs to his feet unsteadily, and he feels, rather than hears, Dwalin's protests, but he's already following Lindir. He doesn't care. When this is over, when this Lord Glorfindel has said what needs to be said, Fili will go to Thorin and tell him the truth and beg leave to retrieve Kili's body.

+

The Elf-lord Lindir has led him to is still in travel-stained clothes, sword belted at his waist. His golden hair is tied back in a single, simple plait that rests over one shoulder. Glorfindel's long fingers play with the leather tie that holds the braid in place, plucking at it as though to undo it, but the moment they step inside the room, he abandons it and stands, ordering Lindir to leave them.

He says nothing as he slowly approaches Fili, and then he presses something cold and hard and metallic into Fili's hand. Fili looks down and scarcely believes it. His hand goes up to press against the back of his head, to feel the clasp that holds his own hair back. His fingers pass over the cold mithril, over the engraved signil of Durin, and he stares at its twin held in his hand.

Fili staggers. Glorfindel reaches out a hand and grabs him, stopping him from going down like a useless lump of rock. He stares up at those bright eyes, and tries to find his voice to demand explanation, but Glorfindel takes him by the elbow and makes him sit down.

'Your brother, Kili, will be fine. He is here, he lives, he is safe. Lord Elrond is seeing to him now. He will recover.' Glorfindel's voice is soft and slow and kind. Fili cannot hear anything that follows - Glorfindel's explanations, the traitorous whispers of his heart (how can he face Kili again?) - for all his mind can do is rejoice for _Kili is alive, Kili is here, Kili is safe_.

+

His footsteps echo loudly in the room, and every single step feels stilted, slow and stumbling - utterly unnatural. This is _Kili_ , his brother, and he is safe. Fili has has never delayed, never been so slow to reach his brother's side. It hurts and confuses him. He should feel nothing but joy for the worst of his fears have rescinded: _Kili lives_. But he knows, too, that there are deeper things at work here: Kili may live, but it was Fili who left him and the oath may yet work to break them apart again.

The feeling is made worse by Lord Elrond keeping pace with him, his walk as soundless and as graceful as an Elf's. Elrond looks down at him, and there is something in those grey eyes that Fili does not want to see.

'He is sleeping,' Elrond says, when they reach the door. His voice hushed.

Fili nods and does not like the way those words ease the knot in his chest. He will not be confronted with the betrayal in Kili's eyes, the bitter twist of his lips, the extinguished hope.

Elrond opens the door into the room and Fili steps inside. The first thing that assails him is the sound of the waterfall. The sound of the thudding water is like that of a storm, but the roar is distant, dimmed, and it reminds Fili of being safe and warm in bed, tucked up around his brother, as a storm rages outside, rain streaking on the windows.

Elrond touches his shoulder with careful fingers, easing him forward until he stands by the bed. Fili closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then bows his head and opens them. _Kili._

His face is still and peaceful, even a soft, healthy glow across his cheeks. His hair lies over his shoulders, neat and clean. He wears a grey robe of Elven-make, hidden mainly by the bed covers tucked around him. He looks better, Fili thinks dumbly, he doesn't even look like he's been injured and left for dead. Fili's hands are trembling as he reaches out for Kili's, and even then he's startled by the warmth beneath Kili's skin - the warmth is not of a fever, but of life.

He twines their hands together. It feels like an extraordinary act, something he had done so often before, but now it feels nothing short of miraculous, the act of something that he had thought he would never do again. Elrond presses a hand onto his elbow, pushes him into a chair. Fili does not let go of Kili's hand.

Fili is silent for a long moment, unable to do anything but drink in the sight of his brother, alive and whole. He is aware of Elrond moving silently behind him, the sound of the waterfall and the slight clink of glass, and the smell of honey and flowers and herbs in the air. But all that matters is Kili, the sound of his breaths, the familiar smell of him.

'Is he going to be all right?'

Elrond comes to stand at Fili's side again. He nods, slowly, and then says, 'There will be a scar, of course, but he will recover - sooner than you expect, I would wager. He is young and strong and with a will to live.'

'I thought he was dead.'

Elrond tilts his head down to regard Fili through unreadable eyes - Elrond _knows_ what Fili has done, he must, everyone does, but all Fili can see in Elrond's eyes is a shared and understood grief. He places a light hand on Fili's shoulder.

'I know,' and his voice is heavy with the most emotion Fili's ever heard from an Elf, and when Elrond turns away he seems to be caught half in the shadows.

+

Kili wakes up slowly, fingers curling unconsciously around Fili's. He blinks up at the ceiling, at the dark wooden beams carved with flowering branches. He frowns for a moment, and then turns to the side and sees Fili. Fili's heart stops. Time is frozen. Kili's judgement—

Kili's judgement must fall upon him now ( _true friends stab you in the front, but—_ ) and Fili will take it, whatever punishment Kili demands of him (why did his brother not sleep longer, why did he have to waken now, when Fili has only just processed that Kili lives, why did they have to be forced down this path?). Kili's judgement—

Kili's judgement is a smile, and though it is hesitant and a little sad, there is no twist of resentment or scorn in it. Kili does not snatch his hand back or shove Fili away, instead he squeezes his hand tighter.

'Fili.'

Fili finds himself smiling, he finds that there are no words, because Kili is there, and his judgement is not to immediately turn away from Fili, there must be some kind of understanding, some kind of forgiveness there.

'I'm here,' he whispers, reaching out with his spare hand to brush Kili's hair back from his face, fingers curling in the soft strands. 'And you, you are here as well, and I—'

'Shh,' Kili says, pressing a hand over Fili's mouth. 'If you carry on, you're going to get all emotional and cry and then everyone will walk in and see you and Thorin will get angry 'cause it's not befitting one of Durin's line.'

Fili laughs. It's strangled and half-tears, but there is real joy there, for this is _Kili_ , unchanged, and Fili shakes his head and leans down to rest his brow against his brother's. 'I may have already done that.' He blinks. 'Today even.'

It feels like an eternity ago. It feels like he's lost the hundreds of years he's aged since he left Kili in those forsaken woods.

'Good reason not to do it again,' Kili says, and Fili laughs, again, and it's easier than before, the tears disappearing, and Fili squeezes his hand, tightly.

'You're here,' he says, throat tight with the joy of that sheer emotion ( _you're here, you're here, you're here!_ ) and Kili grins up at him.

But then a shadow crosses those already dark eyes, the grin fades. Kili looks up at him, right at him, and says, 'And are you going to leave me again?'

His mouth opens to make the assurances ( _no, never, I love you, I'm never putting us through that again_ ), but he remembers the oath and flinches. He remembers that even though they are here together, if the journey demands that one must be left behind, they will have to obey. There is nothing more accursed than an oathbreaker, everyone knows that. Fili opens his mouth and nothing comes out.

Kili closes his eyes. He turns his head away. There is silence for a long moment, broken only by the waterfalls, and the room no longer feels so cosy, so safe. Fili has run out of words, but his hands tug and pull at Kili, trying to get him to face him, trying to get him to understand. Kili at last shoves his hands away and twists onto his side, away from Fili, the line of his back curved and defensive and broken.

'Please go,' he whispers, 'I'm tired.'

'Kili,' Fili's voice is stuttering, stumbling, and 'I. The oath, you _must_ understand, I can't—'

'I understand.' Kili's voice should not be so small, so hopeless, and Fili reaches out for him, because he must, he must—

'Then you—'

'Please go. Fili. Please go.'

+

Thorin yells at him. Fili's not entirely sure what Thorin's main point is, but he manages to deduce that Thorin is furious Fili left Kili behind and then never told Thorin what had happened. It's terrifying and humiliating because it is so terrifying (and entirely what Fili expected). He stands there, head bowed, and thinks that Thorin's voice, the abuse he hurls, is far, far better than the quiet dismissal Kili gave him, and it was for Thorin and the oath that Fili left Kili.

Thorin falls quiet at last. He rubs a weary hand over his face, sighing deeply. He flicks his eyes up to Fili's face.

'Mahal, Fili. Come here.'

The words are soft and broken, and Fili steps forward, bracing himself for a blow. Thorin has never yet raised a hand against his nephews, but surely has given him reason to. Instead, Fili is pulled into a hard hug, one that steals the breath from him.

+

Fili returns to Kili when he sleeps, again, and he holds Kili's hand tight, because where else should he be but by his brother's side? He knows, very well, that he risks Kili's anger, but he cannot just stay away. Kili's sleep is deep and long, and Fili does not leave. Others have been into see Kili, he knows. Dwalin, at least, came while Kili slept and Fili watched, pressed his hand against both boys' shoulders and left them, a relieved grin on his face.

Kili mutters and stirs and blinks sleepily at Fili, and then the desolate look is back in his eyes. It's hard to know exactly what he's thinking, what dark thoughts swirl in his mind, and Fili squeezes his hand.

'I'm sorry, I don't—'

Kili doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything but look at him with that black shine of betrayal in his eyes ( _love hate loneliness desperation broken alone pleading bitterness fear hopeless despair dying living death betrayal betrayal betrayal)_ and Fili's heart feels close to shattering again (and again and again).

'I'm sorry, I didn't want to, I couldn't bear it, I didn't - Balin, he told me, and I, I, I couldn't.'

'But you did,' Kili says, quietly. It is not said to induce guilt, to pour salt on the wound craving absolution, but as a simple stating of facts. Fili had done it and Fili had borne it.

'You left me.'

The words fall into the room, quiet, so quiet they're nearly swallowed up

Fili bites his lips. He thinks of everything that he has thought and been told ( _there is nothing more accursed than an oathbreaker_ ) ( _for Erebor, for Thorin, for the company_ ) and it is no excuse in the face of his brother's despair and anger. It no longer even seems to be the truth, for Fili has held true to his oath and there can be no curse worse than what he has gone through since then.

'I know, and I'm sorry and I won't—'

'Don't,' Kili says, pulling his hand away at last, and it hurts, it hurts. Kili stares up at the ceiling and his eyelids flutter as if holding back tears. 'Don't say it.' He takes a deep breath. 'You don't mean it.'

'I do, I won't leave you. Not again.'

Kili sighs, long and hard, and his eyes shut as if to ward off further pain, or, worse, hope. His chest heaves for a long moment, but then Kili regains himself.

'Unless it conflicts with the oath.'

His voice is desolate.

_(true friends stab you in the front but brothers—)_

Fili flinches, feels the pain twisting along his spine. He cannot deny it - if placed in a similar situation, he has no guarantee that he will not do the same. Yet he has also no guarantee he won't break his oath and stay with Kili until the end. He does not know if he could bear to leave Kili again.

He reaches out, runs a hand over the smooth panes of Kili's face. This is allowed, but not encouraged. Then he stands and walks away.

Kili does not call him back. His silence is the loudest thing Fili has ever heard. It drowns out everything, even the sound of the water thudding down outside. Kili does not call him back.

+

Fili wanders, for a time, throughout the gardens and rooms of Rivendell. He does not wish to see the company, does not wish to face them. He does not know how he could ever bear seeing them again, with the wound between he and Kili still raw and open and bleeding. He stumbles to a stop by a window, high and curved at the top. It looks down at a river running through the valley, the waterfalls pouring down worn rock to pool into lakes of slow-moving water.

Beneath it is a bench of polished cedar, and it is there Fili sits, legs pulled up to his chest, and watches the water fall and fall. He wraps his arms around his knees and rests his brow against the cold glass. He tries not to think of Kili, or of the quest, or of what he has done and failed to do.

'Master Fili.'

He turns his head. Lord Elrond stands before him, hands clasped together. Elrond inclines his head, a measure of respect, and Fili feels a hot rush of embarrassment flood over him.

'Sorry, am I not supposed to be here—? I'll go...'

He leaps to his feet, nearly stumbling and falling, but Elrond raises one hand to call him to a halt. 'There is no need,' he says, 'You have my leave to go where you will and this place is hardly forbidden.'

Fili nods, slowly, as though he does not quite believe the words. It is all he can do to mumble his thanks and turn his face back to the window. Elrond moves forward on soundless feet and presses his hand on Fili's shoulder. Fili forces himself to look up at Elrond, and in those eyes like twilight, there is understanding, empathy and even shared pain. He knows, he knows what Fili has done, and he does not hate Fili for it.

'My Lord—'

'I was the elder brother,' Elrond says, 'By mere moments, though - we were twins, Elros and I. And though I hated him, I loved him also. I even loved the parts of him I hated, for it was he was the most beloved of Eärendil's sons, and I hated him for it.'

Elrond shakes his head slowly, and sits down at the other end of the bench seat. 'And, because we were of the line of the Half-Elven, we were given a choice: to be counted amongst the Elves, or amongst mortal Men, made for death.'

'You chose to be counted as an Elf,' Fili says, taking his time with the words. He has the seen the upswept points of Elrond's ears, the long years written upon his face.

Elrond nods. 'To be counted as an Elf, but kept separate. My lineage is not forgotten.' His eyes flick to the window, the endless fall of water. 'Elros encouraged me, I think - he was the only one who seemed to take serious interest my choice. It terrified me,' he whispers, 'when he chose the fate of Men instead.'

'He chose—? But that would mean—'

'Yes,' Elrond says, softly, sadly, 'I tried to change his mind. I returned his encouraging words and he smiled and said that his choice was made. Nothing I could say would convince him otherwise. He made his choice and I watched him grow old as my body remained unchanged and I watched him die.'

Fili says nothing, words caught in his throat. But, he thinks, he might understand.

'You swore an oath to give everything to the quest,' Elrond says, his voice stronger, 'And that was why you left your brother. I will not ask you to set aside your oath, for it is not in my power to command it, nor to dissolve it.'

Fili stares at him. It is arrogant, he thinks, for Elrond to assume he would have command of a dwarf, and Thorin's heir at that. Elrond looks as though he knows exactly what Fili is thinking and only gives a small, apologetic smile.

'I gave my word, and only death can break it,' Fili says, at last.

Elrond raises his brows, and his voice is sharp when he speaks. 'Your word very nearly broke you, and it was only luck that saved your brother, Master Fili. You know this. If Glorfindel had not been delayed, he would not have not been passing when Kili needed him.'

'I know this, but the oath—'

Elrond looks at him, eyes as piercing as the brightest star. 'What is your brother worth? Surely, he is worth more to you than all the wealth in Erebor.'

Fili opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Elrond waits, not once looking away.

'He is my little brother,' Fili says at last, his voice slow but firm and sure, 'He is more valuable than all the gold and jewels the dwarves have ever worked, more valuable than all that dragons have ever hoarded. The wealth of Erebor is small indeed in comparison to his worth. He is worth all that I have, even my honour.'

He blinks, looking outside the window again and looks not to the water falling but to the sky, clear and bright.

'I know that now. I should have stayed with him, even to our deaths. Whatever path there lies before us, I will not be waylaid so that he may be taken from me.'

Elrond smiles, the gesture small and seemly filled with regrets, but he presses a cool, soft palm against Fili's face. He stands after a moment and murmurs a blessing in Elvish before he touches his lips to Fili's brow and leaves him.

+

He goes to Thorin, who is sitting in the sun and scowling, the Elves singing below his balcony as though to deliberately taunt him. He manages a rough approximation of a smile when he sees Fili.

'Fili.' Thorin looks relieved, 'If I see another Elf...' He shakes his head. 'How is your brother?'

'Well enough.' Fili waits a moment, for Thorin to nod. Then he raises his head, fixes his posture, and says, 'I want you to release me from my oath.'

'What?' Thorin is staring at him, the rare half-smile vanishing as quickly as it appears. He now looks very cold and weary, fearful and sad. 'You no longer wish—'

Anger blooms in Thorin's face, staining his cheeks red.

'No! Thorin, uncle, I would do all I can to reclaim Erebor. For us.' Fili drops to his knees beside Thorin's chair, places his hands on his knees and stares into Thorin's eyes. 'I would follow you anywhere, even to deepest pits of Barad-dûr. Do not doubt me on that. But I won't do it without Kili. I couldn't.'

'What happened,' Thorin says in a rough voice, 'Was never what I intended by the oath, you must believe it. It will not happen again. There is no need to release you from your oath.'

'You cannot promise me that,' Fili whispers, 'But I promise you, Thorin, I won't leave him again, even if I am to be cursed as an oathbreaker.'

Thorin presses his hand against Fili's face, it over Fili's hair. He closes his eyes for a very long moment. 'I... I release you from your oath. Both of you. I should not have...'

He trails off, and Fili does not need to hear the rest of it, nor does he particularly want to. He leans up to clasp Thorin's shoulder. 'Thank you,' he whispers, 'Thank you.'

+

Kili is kneeling up in the bed. One hand rests against his injury, hidden still under the grey Elvish robe he still wears (Thorin would have a fit, but Fili cannot bring himself to care). The wound is obviously still paining Kili, but his eyes are making a study of the woman carved with arms outstretched over the bed.

It disconcerts Fili for a moment. He abandons what he meant to say, and instead says, 'Have you worked out who she is yet?'

Kili glances over his shoulder at Fili, and shrugs. 'No. I'll ask Glorfindel next time he visits.'

When Kili scrambles to lie down, kicking back the fancy, embroidered covers, it's slower than usual, but there's no grimace, not even a flicker of pain, that crosses his face. He looks up at Fili from beneath his brow. 'What did you want?'

Fili takes a deep breath. He feels off-kilter, uncertain. The assurance he felt, the words he had planned have vanished. He walks to the bed, and sits down on the edge. He takes Kili's hands in his. Kili lets him, though there's a slight reluctance, a sense of _wrongness_ , in the way his hands limply sit in Fili's.

'Thorin has released us from our vows, as I asked of him.' Fili says, and there's an a flicker of expression in Kili's face that Fili cannot define. 'Kili, I—' He takes a deep breath. 'I won't do it. I won't leave you, never, do you hear me? I won't, Mahal, I won't, never again, never again. _Kili_.'

Kili hauls him into a hug, holds him tight against his chest, and he feels so warm and solid and familiar. Fili sobs, chokes on it, presses his face into Kili's neck, and breathes in.

'Fili,' Kili whispers. He says nothing further, but even so it feels like forgiveness, even if the words are unsaid. Fili holds onto Kili for several long moments, just focusing on the feel of him in his arms again, then he draws back, taking Kili's hands within his own and meeting his dark eyes with his own.

'Kili, I swear to you, I swear in the light of Mahal's eyes, I will not—'

'No.' Kili pulls his hands away, presses one against Fili's face, 'No. I don't want your oath. I don't need it, either.' He lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug, 'You are my brother and you will not leave me again. That is enough.'

Fili looks at him, sees the truth and forgiveness in Kili's eyes _(true friends stab you in the front but brothers will remain your sword and shield)_. It is more than Fili deserves - and he will forever hate himself for what he has done - but it is forgiveness, it is trust, and it is all the things he thought he lost. He smiles and pulls Kili closer, wants to whisper promises in his ears again, but Kili does not want them, does not need them.

Kili smiles back, it's like a golden sun that breaks a storm, that causes the clouds to flee, and it's perfect, and perhaps not all the clouds will flee, but it will be enough, it will be more than enough.

+

In the morning, Fili takes Kili to see Thorin. Kili is unsteady on his feet, but he walks better than Thorin and Thorin is eager (or rather, Fili thinks, desperate) to see his youngest nephew again. Still, Kili leans easily on Fili and accepts his help on the leaf-strewn stairs. Thorin is sitting on the balcony, glaring at a tree whose blossoms are deigning to fall onto his hair.

'Thorin,' Fili says, and Thorin snaps around, wincing as a shower of flowers fall into his lap. His eyes widen when they catch sight of Kili, and he grins - not some rough, half-cracked expression, but genuine and fond.

'Fili. Kili.' He glances between them, and the smile becomes even more indulgent, even when his voice stays level. He looks at Kili, then, eyes narrowing. 'Show me.'

Kili hesitates for a brief moment, looking at Fili with something like _worry_ , but then he's yanking up his tunic to show off the wound on his belly. Fili thinks of looking away, remembering how the wound had felt beneath his fingers when it was fresh, but he turns back in time to catch sight of Thorin raising tentative, trembling fingers to trace the line of the wound.

It's healing well: the skin is pink and new and clean. Whoever stitched it has done an excellent job for only the slightest unevenness belies the serrated blade that made the wound. It will heal, Fili guesses, into a smooth scar that comes nowhere close to the horror that nearly took Kili's life. He grits his teeth, thinking how strange it is that such a grievous wound should heal into something so innocuous.

'It's all right,' Kili says, looking between them, 'Master Elrond says that it'll heal just fine. It doesn't even hurt that much anymore.' He nudges Fili and smiles helplessly at his brother's sharp look.

'You shouldn't have had to have borne it alone,' Fili says, after a moment.

'But I did.' Kili nudges him, harder, 'And _you_ bore something that you shouldn't have had to bear either.'

'But—'

'Enough, you pair of idiots,' Thorin barks, and Kili's lips slide into a beaming grin as he tugs his tunic back into place. Thorin leans back, fingers rubbing over stone worn smooth by the weather. For a moment, Fili wonders if Thorin feels the same crushing guilt as Fili himself feels, for even Kili's easy forgiveness and easier joy cannot erase the remorse.

Thorin regards Kili with darkened eyes for a moment, then cracks a smile. 'Well, it is good to see you on your feet again, though you were foolish enough to be injured in the first place.'

Kili laughs, his voice fading a little, at the end. 'Surely the same can be said about you, Uncle.'

Fili gives a small flinch, for it looks as though Thorin will shout, but instead he laughs, a quiet chuckle that becomes bigger and louder until the balcony rings with the sound of it. If there is something desperate or almost hysterical in it, Fili and Kili both pretend not to notice.

Kili slumps against Fili, then, and it's obvious that Kili is faltering now, and Thorin's laughter is cut off abruptly.

'You fools,' he says, quietly, 'You beloved idiots. Come, sit down before you fall down.'

They sit either side of him, feeling the warm weight of his arms around them, and the sun shines down upon them, and Thorin grumbles every time another flower falls and Kili's laughing and Fili takes a deep breath, holds it in. There is something perfect in this moment, something small and vulnerable but beautiful, and he will hold it close to his heart and protect it for as long as he can.

+

The Elves are singing, again - it seems that they do little else - and this song is hauntingly sad and beautiful beyond words. The music echoes around them, twinned with the sound of water gushing over rock and stone. Kili sits on the bed, checking the contents of his pack one last time.

'If you're missing anything, Nori probably has it,' Fili says, after a moment, and Kili nods, yanking the straps shut.

They are leaving, tomorrow, and everything has been made ready. Elrond has ensured their food and provisions have been replenished with what will see them over the mountains safely. The others, even Thorin, are sleeping, for they will be leaving at the first sign of light in the sky. Fili has a deep, unsettled feeling in him. He has a little love to spare for Elrond and Rivendell, for it has been good for mending their wounds, their tempers and their hopes. Leaving the valley will mean stepping into the wilds and into danger again.

But is midsummer eve, and there are many bonfires lit amongst the grounds and fair voices singing. Kili is restless, and he tosses his pack to the corner where Fili's lies, alongside their weapons. He pushes off the bed, and after a brief look, they leave the room together and follow down the leafy paths.

They stop in a deserted courtyard. There is a pitcher of honey-wine lying abandoned by a bubbling fountain and fragile glass cups in the long grass. Kili clambers onto one of the stone benches, tracing the vine motif carved onto it with rough fingers, then tips his head back to stare up at the sky.

The night is clear, the sky studded with thousands of bright stars. Fili sits beside Kili and points out the seven stars, 'Remember Mum telling us about that? How those stars were set in the sky to challenge the Great Enemy?'

Kili nods, tipping his head onto Fili's shoulder. 'And to give hope that the darkness would not endure.' He makes a muffled protest when Fili taps his head sharply. 'Glorfindel told me, when we were in the wild. He told me a great many stories.'

'Oh.'

Kili shoves him lightly, digging fingers into the gap between ribs, and laughs. Fili shoves him back, though he is careful, for the wound is still tender. Their play ends soon, though. Fili slings an arm around Kili's shoulders, whose eyes are half-shut and drowsy. Fili debates forcing him up and back to bed. When he looks up, again, he sees two figures on the path, and recognises them only by the hair, for one's hair is darker than the night and the other glints gold by the light of the stars.

He nudges Kili up, and they sit and watch Elrond and Glorfindel walk through the dark, and Fili thinks that even for Elves they are fair beyond measure. Glorfindel, his hair a great mass of gold around his shoulders, glances down at them and smiles. But Elrond meets Fili's eyes, and there is understanding there, perhaps even envy, as he nods in quiet approval.

Later,Fili and Kili lie in bed together, curled up around each other as they have done since they were children, the songs of the Elves still continue, the music mingling with the clear night and the stars and the smell of bonfires. Kili sleeps, snoring softly, and Fili thinks of the words Elrond had spoken, of how Fili had thought of his little brother, worth more than everything in the world.

Now, he feels the love burn through him hotter than dragonfire. He will never leave Kili again. Fili will not be waylaid, Kili will not (cannot) be taken from him. Even when the end comes, they will see it together. In the mud and the snow and the fire and the blood they will stand together until the very last.

And they shall not be broken.


End file.
